The Mudbloods
by Marianus
Summary: Over a decade after the end of the war, two muggleborn children, their magic hidden from them, are discovered far too late, how will they cope with this strange new world? Canon up until end of deathly hallows. OC heavy.


**Chapter 1**

**An Unexpected Correspondence.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own harry potter, if I did, I would be too rich to bother writing fanfiction**

**A/N**** First of all, a big thank you to anyone who actually Reads My story, and an even ****bigger one to those who review, but, pleasantries aside there is a warning to be had here. Firstly, This story is entirely Canon except for the fact it ignores the last couple of chapters of Deathly hallows, Instead of chhosing to go back, Harry chose to move on after Voldemort's Avada Kedavra hit him, causing him to be permanantly killed, and Neville, Ron and Hermione Killed Voldemort between them, via a collision of spells that completely severed his magic from their bodies, rendering them effectively squibs, and voldemort dead, due to his reliance on dark rituals that required magic for him to live, leaving him deceased. This fic is set in 2010, so the characters you know and love (or hate) will be a lot older, also, the "second generation" will be rather limited, down to only Teddy, and perhaps Scorpius. Also this fic will feature VERY Heavy use of OCs (if you haven't already guessed) so if you don't like that, then this fic is most definitely NOT for you, So without further ado on to the actual story!**

To a stranger, the child walking down the quiet street would be dismissed as unimportant, certainly not anybody special by any means, but this was most certainly not the case, of course, this hypothetical stranger could be easily forgiven his assumtions, as even though this particular child was a lot more special than many would imagine, just an average-looking 14 or so year old boy with short black hair and watery blue eyes, and besides, he did not think himself anything special so why should anyone else.

And why should he anyway?, there was nothing special about him, and he saw no reason in pretending any different? So many simply spent their time trying so hard not to be the same, or trying to be the same, that he had eventually given up with both, and soon after that decided he just plain didn't like people.

He turned a corner, and walked slowly down the road, before turning in to an alleyway. Walking down that road, he came to a door, opening it, he proceeded in, his parents wouldn't be home for another few hours, same as every day, so he plunked down in front of his computer, and began the process he took every eving, several solid hours of nothing, followed by rushing his homework and finally sleeping, though never for quite as long as he would have hoped.

It was while he was doing this that a very strange thing happened, a large bird flew through his window, and began annoyingy pecking at him.

"Bugger off", he said while feebly waving his hand at the creature, a hoot followed by a nip at his ear was all he received in response from the creature.

"Alright, fine, what do you want?" he asked in a tone that contained a fair amount of venom. The bird, which he now identified as some kind of owl, hooted impatiently and stuck out its leg, tied to it was a rather odd looking envelope, which he removed with some trepidation, as soon as he had done so, the owl flew away as fast as it could, leaving the boy with his thoughts, and his odd envelope. He first noticed its difference because of the adress, who knew so much about him? It was rather worrying to say the least.

_Mr John _**_DeMoney _****_18_****_th_****_ June 2010_**

_Second-Smallest Bedroom_

_112 Liverpool Grove_

_Southwark_

_Greater London_

_England_

This worried him, how would someone know where he lived, right up to what room he was in? He shook off his misgivings and opened the letter, it read;

_To John DeMoney,_

_ By now you are probably wondering from whom this letter is from, and why it was delivered in such a strange manner, well, allow me to explain, you, John have a very special talent, one which many people would not hesitate to deny as a work of fictio, something that never has, and never will exist._

_But this is not the case, you are magical, and it is with a great apology that I tell you this, for you should have been told this about 4 years ago._

_However, it seems that your magic has been placed under a "block" preventing it from manifesting correctly, thus explaining our lack of telling you._

_There is an entire school dedicated to the learning and honing of your magic, and, ver the coming summer we hope to tutor you in the basic magical arts, enough so that you will be able to keep up with classwork in a group with people of your age, this will not howerver, cover theory, so you will have to attend extra theory lessons over the school year._

_I hope to send a professor to your home as soon as possible, in order to tell you more, and make plans for this coming summer._

_Yours Sincerely_

_Minerva __McGonagall_

John clutched the note in his hands, a look of disbelief spreading across his face, and began to think, recently he had noticed a few strange things happening, small things, like lost objecte seeming to pull themselves out from under his bed, or the lights turning themselves off when he was trying to sleep, and magic would explain this.

However, he couldn't help but think that it was some kind of stupid ruse, designed to make him thinkhe was magical, because until today, all he knew was that magic didnt exist.

He guessed that only the coming of this "professor" would tell him.

**A/N thats all for now guys, please review, all criticism welcome, as long as it is constructive, even if its the worst piece of fiction ever written, as long as you tell me why, then I'm ok with that.**


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